Minnie, Another Harry, and a Bright-Haired Witch

Happy Halloween 2015!

Charlotte, the most decisive of all the children in this house, has been saying for months that she wanted to be Minnie Mouse. A polka dot dress and some yellow converse, big brother's tie as a belt, and some ears and gloves - makes her done and done. She was crazy happy about this costume, I'm sure you can't tell.

Anneliese really wanted to be a witch, "but the nice kind, who is friendly and likes colorful things." I mean, obviously.

Despite having already dressed up as Harry Potter once for Halloween (with a little sister Hedwig sidekick!), Nathan wanted to do it again. He has been super into the books and has a whole new context for Harry, and would not be deterred.

On Saturday afternoon before trick-or-treating, there was a symphony concert of Harry Potter (and other movie) music, and our sweet friend Anita who is the symphony harpist, comped us tickets. So great!

They had lots of fun things in the lobby like places to try out instruments, and a "potions" class where kids could make bubbles with soap and dry ice, then shatter them, and people walking around dressed as Hogwarts professors with a sorting hat for anyone who wanted to try it.

The whole event was completely delightful.

Happy Birthday, Anneliese!

It's Anneliese's birthday! She's six! SIX! It sounds so old, doesn't it?

Another year has flown by:


(If you can't see the embedded video, click here to watch on YouTube.)

(Other birthday videos: first year, second year, third year, fourth year, fifth year.)

It always makes me a bit sad and nostalgic watching my babies grow up, and watching all the past years of birthday videos makes me full of sappy tears and memories. There an ache to it, of course. But mostly, today, it's a warm ache, tempered by the lovely feelings of watching her grow into a person I really like and respect. She is a wonderful child, the world is better with her in it, and it is an honor to be her mom. My heart is full to bursting.

Happy happy birthday, dear Anneliese.

Anneliese, Almost Six

Last week in Anneliese's kindergarten class, she was the "owl of the week" (because just being student of the week is so last millenium?) and she got to ("got to") make a collage and bring a stuffed toy home and write in a journal about it, and also answer a questionnaire about herself.

One of the prompts was to name a dream she has for herself one day. Her answer? "See a rainbow." When I pointed out that she has indeed seen a rainbow before already, she said "Yes! And it was a dream come true!"

So, that's basically all you need to know about Anneliese and her delightful little heart these days.

But here is some more anyway:

She is reading, more and more. She is writing, more and more. Suddenly the world seems hers for the taking. (Hashtag: literacy, amiright?) She sings and dances and makes funny facial expressions and talks with her hands.

She plays with her American Girl doll and her baby doll and chats about Shopkins and Pokemon. She can build lego sets now, with only a little help from big brother. She can fix her own food and find her own tv show and she has her own email address, which she uses to send very important emails covering important topics such as I LOVE YOU and also I LOVE PARSNIPS and also HI BYE LOVE ANNELIESE, but with far fewer correctly spelled words than that there.

She remains obsessed with rainbows. And wearing as many colors as possible. In another of her school projects, she did a collage (why so many collages, teachers of America? whyyyy) or list type thing of her favorites -- naming her favorite color as a rainbow and her favorite animal as a unicorn.

She will not fit into someone else's fill in the blank, NO SHE WILL NOT. (In the most delightful way possible.)

And she is trying very hard to seem grown up, and to grow up, and to be taken seriously, while also clinging tight to a few vestiges of babyhood: her thumb, and Hattie, and dress-ups.

Anneliese seems to approach the world with the assumption that the world is out to delight her. And, therefore, it usually does. I think this is a good way to live. I think I would like to be more like her when I grow up.

I can't believe six years ago tonight she was still inside me, and now here she is, a bright-eyed funny smiling little kindergarten human, making the world better because she is in it. She is everything.

Happy due date, Beanie. We love you always.

Responsibility. How Do I Teach This? No Really.

Okay so, question:

How do you teach a kid to care about something they... don't care about? That's to say, how do you make a kid be responsible?

Because here's the thing: if we make them be responsible for a thing, then, by definition, they are not responsible for the thing. Because we made them. Which is the opposite of them being responsible for it.

Y'all, we are in a Season with Nathan. He is so bright, and so compliant, and also his head is in the clouds right now. He's just careless, on almost all fronts. His teachers have made a big deal about them taking personal responsibility for homework, no hand holding, no reminders, and are working on teaching them how to use a study agenda. All of these thing make my little planny heart just sing. Yesssss teach them to do it. Yes! YES!

But.

He isn't doing it. He forgets his homework packets, then forgets his agenda, then forgets to turn in his homework packets, then forgets to get new ones, which days to take carpool home instead of the bus, then forgets his glasses, then rushes through a math test and fails it, then loses his homework folder (and agenda).

And when we ask about it and follow up and say (ad nauseum) YOU are responsible for getting it done, it is no one's job to give it to you or ask to make sure you got it, it is YOUR job to find out what you need AND to get it. YOUR JOB he is just... full of excuses. He asked but no one answered. He asked but someone said look at the board, but the info wasn't on the board.

I just. WHAT IS GOING ON.

I am going to pull my hair out. The words we are saying (not our job! your job!) are not sinking in, or if they are, they aren't enough to make him care.

How do I raise a kid to know that there is not going to be a personal invitation for him to do what he is supposed to be doing?

So in the early weeks of this, when we told him he needed to do all his homework for the week (do it and turn it in and get his new packet) in order to earn screen time for the weekend, he sneaked behind our backs when we had a sitter and played a computer game anyway.

And then lied about it.

Oh my god, there were tears.

And yes, we have worked through various consequences and rewards and such, trying to balance the notion that he has to earn privileges, with also avoiding him digging himself into such a behavior/reward deficit he can never climb out, and so just gives up.

He just... doesn't care. I am tired of caring more than he does. He is perfectly responsible and totally on it when it comes to stuff he cares about, but apparently right now homework isn't one of those things. He only cares when he feels in trouble. (Or, if he's reminded, he's perfectly happy to do it.) But I don't know how to move from that "on fire" moment of him wanting to smooth our displeasure, to him caring about it when no one is managing it for him, besides just... letting him crash and burn.

Which we did. He still does not care. (Failed a math test. Barely noticed.)

I feel super powerless about it, which I am. And I should be. It's his thing. But it's so important to me to convince him, somehow, of why he should care and feel responsible for things that are assigned to him. It's hugely important in life. And isn't this our job as his parents? And so, I feel like I am failing him right now.

My dad's advice on these things is always: just wait it out. Almost everything is a phase. Almost everything passes.

So I am trying to tell myself he is barely out of the first month of school, it's an adjustment, he will figure it out and begin to shoulder this stuff on his own, if I keep backing away and let him. Even if it means watching him stumble a few more times before he gets it.

How do I balance assuring him that I will always be here when he falls, with also being clear I'm not going to swoop in and prevent the fall from happening?

I am going to read this book everyone recommends, (which sure sounds like it espouses everything I think I believe about the kind of parenting I want to do), and cry some frustrated tear at both Nathan and myself.

Parenting: I'm always a little bit in over my head, yknow? *sigh*

Churchy Firsts

Charlotte sang in choir for preschool chapel for the first time last week. After years of watching Nathan and Anneliese do it, it was finally her turn.

You would think by the third child, I would be hardened to the sweetness, and just smile and go along my way, because it's normal and we have done it a million times. But you would be wrong. I cried. I cry every time. It's just that sweet to me.

(She barely even sang, though, honestly. Classic.)

The weekend before that, she came and sat in the chancel with me on Sunday morning for the first time. On weeks when Mark works, it's sort of a delicate juggle of how I can sit in the choir and sing, and also make sure all the kids are okay in the service. We are trying a few things to figure out what will work best, but last week this is just a thing we tried.

She was super sweet and excited about it, and although I'm not sure will do it very often just yet, I was so glad to have her with me. Like an odd little milestone for our kids. It squeezed my heart a bit, I will admit it.

See? Sappy.